


Every minute and every hour (I miss you, I miss you, I miss you more)

by coincidental



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Implied/Referenced Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-17 21:26:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19963459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coincidental/pseuds/coincidental
Summary: Time does not erase her grief, merely rounds off its sharp edges, becomes a familiar worn stone in her belly, a quiet weight that she will never lose, but it does not cut her deeply, does not wound her. She feels it when her raven comes, and more when he leaves.





	Every minute and every hour (I miss you, I miss you, I miss you more)

**Author's Note:**

> Some friends and I were talking about Keyleth, after everything and I decided to express my feelings a little. 
> 
> Keyleth deserves a happy ending.
> 
> x

Despite being one of the smallest moments in her life, Vox Machina are always one of the most important to Keyleth. Her younger years feel but a breath, a moment, a brief, ephemeral thing she was somehow so lucky to have been able to hold cupped in her palms. She holds the ghost of it there sometimes still, and the warmth travels from her very fingertips to infuse every inch of her. 

Like a tree she grows, strong, vibrant, deep rooted and full of life, the wind bows her but never breaks her. 

She has purpose beyond them, she always did. She was striving to become the leader her people deserved, to find the strength at her core and weave it into a shield to protect her people, to wind it up her spine to hold her back straight and her resolve with it, to forge a helm to focus her and hold her steady when she might falter.

The raven comes to call and his feathers are always dark and sleek and he settles on her staff, her shoulder, her hand, caws and croons to her. She is grateful he changes as little as she does, even when her beautiful friends become echoes. He is her comfort, as ever he was. 

Keyleth is gifted with lifetimes those she loves only dreamed of, and she does not waste them. She plants the seeds of a legacy and she tends them until they grow, slow, strong and steady. Her people thrive, their world knows peace. 

She finds love, because it is so abundant it would be hard not to, she finds a man who laughs in a way that sets worn grooves by his eyes, indents his cheeks with time worn dimples. His eyes are young and lovely and filled with love for every day he stands beside her and they shine in the eyes of their children, their dark skin and dark eyes with the tenacious red of her hair. 

Time does not erase her grief, merely rounds off its sharp edges, becomes a familiar worn stone in her belly, a quiet weight that she will never lose, but it does not cut her deeply, does not wound her. She feels it when her raven comes, and more when he leaves. 

She feels them all by her side when she walks the walls of Whitesone, almost familiar children trailing behind her as they fight to tell her their names, their _whole_ names. She feels them there in a song, in a laugh, in a dance. She feels them in the weight of the mantle on her shoulders, the worn feel of her staff in her hand. She feels them when she touches the ruby she wears in her earlobe, though it’s been silent for centuries now. They are never far. 

She collects the golden memory of them and all the others she loves who go before her, who loved her too, and it is those that warm her, that stop the years becoming lonely.

Keyleth walks with ghosts and grows flowers to leave behind her. On the last day, her raven comes to call. He kisses her forehead, he smiles. _Forever and always_ , she thinks and knows it has been so. 

  


**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this, it would mean the world to know what you thought. 
> 
> Kudos and reviews are much treasured!
> 
> x


End file.
